Through no choice of mine, the other ghost says, and Rose thinks: shit. She's been trapped before — drawn into an abandoned truck stop like a moth to a flame and locked in a Seal of Solomon — but she's yet to find any telltale arcane marks here. And while the twilight has plenty of ghost towns that would happily ensnare more residents for themselves, this is the daylight. A daylight town shouldn't be able to hold any ghost with enough sense to recognize that they're being held in the first place.

But Norah here seems sensible. And it sounds like she's been stuck here for a while.

"I'm Rose." Despite her own impatience for details, she does manage a wry smile over the unnecessary clarification. "And... yeah, I figured." Nothing wrong with being a little translucent if you're not the kind of ghost that regularly passes itself off as the living, but it's not exactly subtle. "Can't say I know what kind of ghost you are," she adds, figuring she might as well lay a few cards on the table. It doesn't seem likely that another ghost is the mastermind behind whatever the hell is going on here, and one of the first rules the twilight teaches you is that lies are for the living, not the dead. "I'm a hitcher, so I know you're not a road ghost, but that doesn't narrow it down much."